


Blemished

by silvered



Category: Tekken
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Bruises, Canon-Typical Violence, Hate Sex, M/M, Rival Relationship, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5992930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvered/pseuds/silvered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kazuya Mishima comes back from the dead. The first time Lee knows about it is when they're fighting each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blemished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceQueenKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/gifts).



> Written for AceQueenKing for the following prompt:
> 
> "Mishima Kazuya/ Violet - I'd love to see Kazuya's thoughts on Lee's costume. He's gaudy and flamboyant and his idea of masculinity must clash one thousand percent with Kazuya's very, very macho idea of masculinity.
> 
> I'd love to see him feel very conflicted about Lee's Violet persona between finding it annoying and finding it attractive, and Lee milking it for all it was worth."

Purple. It was all Kazuya could see. He knew if he were to shut his eyes then, it would be reflecting obnoxiously off the inside of his eyelids. So much purple. He set down the dossier his agents had provided for him, and reached for his sunglasses.

There. Kazuya’s tortured corneas immediately felt better. He turned the pack over, just to be safe, and reached for the newspaper clippings.

Violet. A fitting, if unimaginative name. Effeminate. His lip jerked upwards with a derisive curl. Of course, Lee had been wearing knee high boots and unicorn vests well into his mid-twenties. He clearly didn’t have a problem with that sort of thing.

He was wearing the same gloves. Black fingerless calfskin with three silver bars across the back. Kazuya remembered those gloves very well. Lee had always fought in them, and a well-timed punch left bright red lines that took time to heal. He’d been repaid in kind, of course.

Kazuya had chosen care with his own appearance as befitting his return to the tournament. Everything he wore was handstitched to his specifications. The dark shirt he wore was of a dye that was supposed to look like a stormy sea. He’d missed the sea in his time in Nebraska, and it suited his mood. Kazuya’s tailor had worked his fingers to the bone attempting to procure a dye that met Kazuya’s demands, before giving up and mixing the dye himself. He’d rejected seven swatches before the colour had been to his liking, but it had been worth it. No one else could get this colour.

Lee’s own tournament outfit was an unbelievably gaudy concoction of purple frills and sequins, with leather bondage pants thrown in. He looked like a discount Christmas tree. His silvery hair was dyed a rich, dark purple. It reminded Kazuya of his suit, the one that was molecules of ash. The sunglasses were an odd choice. Enough to hide his face, but not enough to hide his beauty. Enough to hide his identity from casual observers, but surely anyone who knew him would recognise him in a second?

Of course, Lee thought Kazuya was dead, along with most of the world. Heihachi would be busy as host and organiser of the tournament, and Lee would be banking on that. Jin Kazama would be distracting everyone, including Kazuya, and Kazuya’s return would throw in yet another factor. Nobody would be paying much attention to the eccentric industrialist in purple. Even without considering Kazuya, Lee had calculated the odds of detection and found them overwhelmingly in his favour. A disguise that wasn’t really a disguise, for a tournament that wasn’t really a tournament.

If Kazuya had been the kind of person to admire or respect others, he might have smirked as he considered all this. However, he was Kazuya Mishima, and all Lee’s plotting earned from him was a “hmph” as he drew hard on his cigarette and decided to look at the photos again.

Kazuya reached for the pack and slid the photos out cautiously.

Yes. Definitely Lee. His height, build and stances were exactly the same. It was as though he hadn’t fought since they last met. He’d barely even aged, going by his skin. Kazuya looked at the biography, a ludicrous work of fiction. The two years Violet had shaved off his age made him snort.

 _Profession: Majority shareholder and de facto leader of a manufacturer for humanoid robots_. This didn’t surprise Kazuya at all. Lee had been interested in robots for almost as long as he’d known him. He’d spent a lot of time in the lab working on the Jack series for Kazuya.

His agents had thoughtfully provided a copy of Violet’s official tournament video. Kazuya slid the silver disc out of the cardboard and frowned at it. Strange how the familiar could become so foreign in twenty years. No one used tapes anymore. He wondered what had become of the stacks of videos he had kept in the Zaibatsu. There were faithfully kept records of the labs and their experiments, surveillance tapes of enemies and allies, even a few of him and Lee in his private office. They were all valuable in the right hands, and damaging in the wrong ones. Nothing he could do about it now, though.

Kazuya stared at the smooth face on the cardboard cover before sliding the disc into his laptop and waiting for the screen to come to life.

The tournament’s signature music – oompah music with Japanese guitars, Heihachi was ever more eccentric – blared, and then Lee came on screen. To Kazuya’s surprise, he was speaking English with a confident American accent.

“Hi, I’m Violet, CEO of Violet Systems. I’ve entered the King of the Iron Fist Tournament to introduce myself to you, and to introduce you all to a very special friend of mine.”

There was a hastily spliced together reel of Lee jumping, twisting, kicking. He still looked limber and graceful. Kazuya felt his cock harden. Despite the disguise and the distance, Lee still got to him. He hated it.

“Introducing…Combot.”

Lee stood back and Kazuya watched a spectacularly ugly robot limp onscreen. When Lee began talking about Combot, Kazuya flicked eject fast. He had no interest in Lee’s sales pitch.

Lee, then. Interesting. He’d certainly provide more of a challenge than the wrestler, the boxer or the madly twirling woman. It didn’t look as though his fighting style had evolved much, and he hadn’t appeared in the third tournament. Kazuya thought of smashing him to the canvas, his fingers tight around that tanned throat as he raised Lee high to the bright lights he courted so desperately. His cock was painfully hard now, and he adjusted himself for some relief, but he didn’t take himself in hand. Not yet. Some pleasures were best delayed, and he intended to give Lee the benefit of all the trouble he’d caused.

Kazuya looked at himself in the mirror. He was more thickly muscled than he had been 21 years ago. His clothes were perfectly tailored for his body. Every seam and thread was perfect; he’d made damn sure of that. Lee wasn’t the only one who’d changed.

There was an hour to go to the fight, time to warm up. Kazuya was mentally ready, as ever, and he smirked to himself as he pictured Lee’s reaction to him. Shock or surprise? However Lee took his reappearance, the outcome would be in _his_ favour.

Kazuya tossed the opponent pack in the fire, and rose to change.

* * *

 Lee smiled as he heard the tournament announcer call his name. Sixth round already, and nearly through to the final four. He threw back his head to take in the cheers as he walked into the arena, the end-stage enclosure with high mesh walls. The crowd were calling his name, cheering for him. Cheering for Violet really, but a name wasn’t so important, when it was his fighting they’d fallen for. He could change his name and hair colour, but he’d never conceal his fighting style in the arena. Appearance was all conscious decision, ruthlessly calculated to the final outcome, but fighting came direct from his subconscious. This was how he’d learned to fight living on the streets – if you didn’t trust your instinct, you were dead.

It was his instinct that warned him in the seconds before he knew who his opponent was. The crowd had fallen silent as they strained to see who he’d be fighting. Lee felt a chill run down his spine, and he paled beneath his golden Bahamas-tanned skin. Not Heihachi, no, but it couldn’t be, he was –

“KAZUYA MISHIMA!” the announcer yelled, as Lee stared in disbelief at the opposite side of the arena. No, he thought, this can’t be him, even as his body reacted to the sight before him. Kazuya was wearing his old white gi pants, his short red gloves and footguards – back to basics. The last time he’d seen Kazuya fight, he’d been in purple silk and losing to their father.

As Kazuya neared, he saw that he was now covered in scars, as though he’d survived some awful accident. Lee shivered – he knew that Kazuya had been thrown into the volcano. Nobody could possibly survive that, and yet the evidence was here before him. Kazuya tilted his head to sneer at him, and Lee saw his left eye gleam red.

He remembered the break-in to G Corp at the start of the tournament – he’d lost ten million dollars that day – and how blindly he’d followed the trail back to Heihachi and walked right back into this. How stupid and short-sighted he’d been. Revenge had never brought him any happiness and siding with Kazuya at the end of the second tournament – a decision based on multiple factors, yet the easiest he’d ever made – had blown up in his face. Kazuya had failed them both.

Lee thought all this, while watching Kazuya assume stance, and was caught off guard by the bell going for the first round.

“Fight!”

Kazuya came at him without delay, huge fists swinging like hammers, and it was all Lee could do to backflip away to buy time. He saw the mesh wall of the arena flash a few inches away. Nowhere to hide.

“Fool,” Kazuya hissed, as he moved in with a swinging fist that made the mesh rattle. Lee’s breath was coming hot and fast. The crowd were jeering, shouting at him and rattling the outside of the cage. His concentration was gone, and there was no time to think. Only time to react to Kazuya’s increasingly aggressive manoeuvres.

When Kazuya’s leg flashed at him with a vicious kick, he blocked it, and pushed Kazuya back, watching him topple heavily to the canvas. Not his usual style, but at least it wasn’t a straight up dodge. Time to bring the fight to Kazuya.

He’d always been faster than Kazuya, lighter and more familiar with dropping down to instinctive fades and moves. Kazuya had recovered quickly, and this time Lee met him with a swift, low punch that caught Kazuya directly in his scarred stomach as he sidestepped Kazuya’s punch. Kazuya gasped, and Lee was almost caught again. It had been so long since they fought.

He barely had time to dive out of the way as Kazuya came flying through the air with a kick that would have taken his head off. Kazuya was so much more brutal now, or perhaps he’d grown too used to soft competition. Heihachi would never have tolerated Lee’s fighting like this. It didn’t help that he’d retired from fighting for two decades, and was very out of practice, he supposed, but that was only an excuse.

_Excuses are for losers, and I won’t tolerate that in my house._

This time, Kazuya’s punch connected and Lee flew backwards to hit the mesh wall hard. Kazuya waited for him to get up, obeying the rules of the tournament, but Lee heard his whisper across the canvas.

“Disappointing, Lee.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him that Kazuya knew him, but it did. Who knew his body better than Kazuya, after all? With some effort, he eased himself back up into a standing position, and faced Kazuya again. Everything ached.

The crowd had fallen silent. He circled in close to Kazuya, and they fought up close, blocking punches and kicks, the only sounds flesh meeting flesh and their laboured breathing. Kazuya’s black hair was pristine as usual, he noticed, but he dreaded to think how saturated his own hair must be, stiff with sweat, the dye perhaps starting to run.

 _No_!

It was one thing to lose a fight to Kazuya as Violet, the unknown billionaire who’d come to the tournament to promote his robot. It was another to lose it as Lee Chaolan, the second son of Heihachi Mishima. He could walk away from this, if Kazuya let him.

When Kazuya came for him, this time his kick connected. Lee fell to the floor, and didn’t get up. His sunglasses flew off and Lee fell forward, allowing his hair to hide his face. Kazuya stayed where he was, as the referee ran forward.

“Violet. I’m going to count to twenty. If you’re not up by then, the fight’s over. Ok?”

Lee feigned difficulty getting up, which was easy considering how hard Kazuya had hit him. He heard the bell go, and the crowd jeer as Kazuya was declared the winner. He didn’t move as the canvas shook with Kazuya’s heavy step.

“Bad fight, little brother – I’d ask if it was your first but I know you better than that. I’ll be waiting for you afterwards. Don’t stay here too long.”

Kazuya disappeared without a backward glance, and Lee crawled to retrieve his sunglasses, pressing them on gratefully, before picking himself up. He was alone. None of his hangers-on had bothered to wait for him.

* * *

 The sky was dark, and the arena silent by the time Lee made to his dressing room. He’d dodged the press – he didn’t want anyone looking at him today. Violet Systems would issue a dry, impersonal statement. They’d have to be satisfied with that.

His dressing room was empty – or so he thought, until he’d shut the door behind him.

“Violet.”

Kazuya’s deep voice was mocking. He was exactly the same, 21 years later.

“Kazuya. What do you want?”

Kazuya stepped forward. His red eye glowed. Lee stared at him.

“Surprised to see me, I take it. At least I hope that was the reason for that performance.”

Lee didn’t move. In the dressing room, behind his sunglasses, he felt safer. Kazuya _could_ kill him here, away from the eyes of the crowd and the law of the tournament – but he wouldn’t. His eyes travelled over Kazuya’s exposed skin. Kazuya was here for something more carnal. He didn’t know what had happened to Kazuya, but Kazuya’s eyes looked over him exactly as they had 21 years ago, and his eyes gleamed exactly the same way. Even if one of them was red now.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I was.”

Lee didn’t know what to say to that. Kazuya smirked. The corners of his mouth jerked up exactly the way Lee remembered.

Not a clone. A clone couldn’t replicate the way someone smiled. Lee had a lot of money invested in G Corp and if he knew anything about cloning, it was the limitations of the current technology. He stared at Kazuya in fascination.

“Violet. That’s a girl’s name, isn’t it?”

Lee found his voice.

“It’s a colour. It’s – “

“I can see it, all over you. You look ridiculous.”

Lee smiled, and took off his sunglasses.

“I’m probably violet all over now, after our fight. I’d forgotten how you are.”

“ _Forgotten_ ,” Kazuya said, mocking again.

“It’s been a long time. A lot has happened.”

Now Kazuya said nothing, and stared at Lee, arms folded. Lee took in the scars that ran over his cheeks, vicious curves that spoke of pain. He turned away and looked down at his hands, waiting.

Kazuya moved closer, until Lee could feel his breath hot on his skin.

“Purple hair.”

“Mmm.”

Kazuya slid a heavy hand through his damp hair, forcing Lee to look up. He was looming above Lee, the scars on his body contrasting with his pale skin.

“Feels the same. I always liked having your hair wrapped around my fingers.”

Lee smiled. He’d been right about Kazuya’s motivations. The memories weren’t something a clone would have either.

“So you’ve been dead 21 years, and you come back to humiliate me in the ring, and then fuck me afterwards?”

“Correct.”

Lee moved past Kazuya, making sure to brush against him hard as he passed. Kazuya turned to watch him with unconcealed anger.

“Didn’t think Violet was your type.”

“Don’t be stupid, Lee.”

Kazuya followed him. Lee could feel the heat from his body.

Lee had always enjoyed fucking with Kazuya, and 21 years later it was as much fun as it ever had been. He decided to switch to English, knowing that Kazuya hated speaking English, and that he hated American-accented English most of all. When he’d chosen his persona, it had been a factor, even though Kazuya was long dead. What did that say about him?

Lee brushed that thought aside, into the pile of thoughts he deemed too messy for therapy, and replied in English.

“I’m not stupid – I’m sore all over. Not sure I could handle you.”

Lee tilted his head back and smiled charmingly. Violet’s smile. Kazuya was unimpressed. His thick brows knotted.

“Look what you left on me in the arena.”

Lee slowly unbuttoned Violet’s glittering purple shirt, making the most out of it even though he had only done two buttons up in the first place. Kazuya’s eyes followed his fingers. His golden skin was covered in bruises, beginning to darken and mar his skin. Kazuya raised his eyes to his face again and shrugged.

“It’s not my problem you can’t fight, _Violet_.”

“Sorry Mr Mishima, I don’t speak Japanese.”

Kazuya’s face darkened to a deep, dangerous-looking purple, but he said nothing.

“Oh yes, you did quite a number on me. Not excellent, at all.”

Lee’s fingers fumbled the belt on his bondage pants, now uncomfortably tight. Kazuya watched him, never taking his eyes off Lee’s face. His iron will was admirable, Lee thought. He’d always liked that about his brother.

With as much grace as he could manage, Lee eased his leather pants down and off. Kazuya’s eyes widened slightly as he saw Lee was wearing nothing underneath, but he said nothing. Lee had a number of bruises coming up here too. Kazuya’s eyes took in every inch of skin, lingering on the bruises.

Lee shivered.

Kazuya backed away, and sat on the bench, pushing Violet’s clothes to the floor.

“I assume you are prepared.”

He pushed his gi pants down, freeing his cock, and gestured for Lee to come over.

“Sit.”

“Mr Mishima, I need you to prepare me first, otherwise it won’t be excellent.”

Violet’s prissy, precise instructions did the trick, and Kazuya roared off the bench and pushed him against the locker. Lee winced as Kazuya pressed him back with the full weight of his body and presented two fingers for him to suck. He sucked Kazuya’s fingers hard, watching his pupils dilate as he worked, and then Kazuya eased them inside him. Lee breathed out and forced himself to relax.

Kazuya leaned in and kissed him for the first time since they’d met. His tongue was hot and Lee kissed back urgently, not caring that Kazuya was pressing him back harder in his excitement. He focused on the feeling of Kazuya’s fingers inside him, of Kazuya’s body against his.

When they broke, Kazuya moved back to the bench and tapped his thick thigh, indicating that Lee should sit. This time, Lee obeyed. He eased himself onto Kazuya’s cock carefully, and wrapped his legs round Kazuya’s waist.

Kazuya’s eyes looked deep into his and Lee felt his suppressed concern about the whole situation rise up again, but this time he ignored it.

He rode Kazuya hard and fast, ignoring his own pain for the chance to drive Kazuya into the bench beneath him. Kazuya held him fast, controlling his movement, and it was just like he remembered. Lee worked himself, but it was a secondary consideration.

When Kazuya came, he came with a shout, and Lee watched his face. Kazuya had always been so controlled and cold, apart from when he was fighting and during sex, and it was always a pleasure to see him lost in the moment.

Lee sat on him until Kazuya’s breathing slowed, and he looked at Lee again.

“Kazuya. I didn’t – “

“Shut up,” Kazuya said, standing up and forcing Lee to the floor. He gestured at the bench.

“Sit.”

Lee sat, and watched as Kazuya dropped to his knees and parted his legs. He was so close, so sensitive. Kazuya took him in his mouth, and Lee watched as his dark head worked. Soon he was gasping and gripping the bench as Kazuya mercilessly finished him. When he moaned, Kazuya’s fingers dug hard into his bruised thighs, and Lee almost screamed, but he understood the reminder.

Lee sat in a daze as Kazuya knelt and wiped his mouth.

“Kazuya. What happened to you?”

Kazuya looked at him for a long moment.

“Later. I’ll tell you after I win the tournament. You can find me in the Zaibatsu Throne Room, my rightful place.”

“You’re only through to round seven,” Lee said.

“Further than you. Goodbye, Violet,” Kazuya said, pulling up his gi pants and walking out the door, shutting it with a bang.

When Lee eventually picked himself up and looked in the mirror, the bruises were dark on his skin. His hair was messy and sweaty, and the dye he’d used had started to fade a little. He hadn’t wanted to damage his hair with permanent colour.

Kazuya, back again. He didn’t even dwell on the fact he’d been knocked out of the tournament. Heihachi would meet Kazuya sooner or later, and he had faith that Kazuya would get his revenge then. Lee could wait a little longer to settle his own score with Kazuya.

In the meantime, he had to pack up and leave. Hanging around the tournament didn’t hold any appeal for him after he and Combot had both been knocked out. Whatever was going down with the Mishimas was clearly going to be bad, and he’d learned his lesson after siding with Kazuya. Best not to involve himself directly.

The first thing he was going to do when he got back to the Bahamas was start training properly again. It would be Kazuya lying at his feet in the fifth tournament.

If he ever needed some motivation, the evidence was all over his body. Lee touched a maroon bruise on his collarbone. The dressing room had been fun, but he’d lived too long to go back to the way things were. Kazuya would have no idea what would hit him, and Lee intended to work hard to ensure history didn’t repeat itself.

 _Next time, Kazuya_.


End file.
